


Tough as old boots

by jeanniemckay



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Gen, Gun Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanniemckay/pseuds/jeanniemckay
Summary: When Ray and Ed head out to a warehouse to get some research material for a case, things turn south very quickly. [Just a little bit of Ray angst]
Relationships: Joseph Chandler & Ray Miles, Judy Miles/Ray Miles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Tough as old boots

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise, I suck at summaries and it's taken me about three days to just come up with that one! Essentially this was created because there's definitely not enough Ray angst about here and I couldn't resist adding something to the pot. My first story in about 6 years so be gentle with me. -JM

The world seemed to be tilting, listing to one side and weirdly fuzzy at the edges. The ground was shifting beneath him, seeming to move even as he remained still. Everything around him was strangely muted, the noises which had seemed so oppressive only moments before were dulled down so dramatically that they almost didn’t register with him anymore.

Everything leading up to this moment had been fairly routine, as far as he could remember. He’d been forced to babysit Buchan by his berk of a DI, they’d made their way out here in the arse-end of nowhere on some sort of research errand and then things had just turned odd. It didn’t help that his brain didn’t seem to be working too well at the moment – Judy would say that was down to age, cheeky mare that she was – but even the most recent of memories seemed hazy now.

Vaguely an ache in his side began to register, nothing major, more like a stitch. He felt like he was breathing heavier too – had he been running? Had they been chasing a suspect? No, definitely not with Buchan around, he doubted the other man could even jog let alone tear after a suspect. Then again he wasn’t exactly in prime condition himself.

But he was sure there’d been any haring around, so why did he feel like he’d run a marathon?!

He blinked as he tried to clear the fog from his mind, but it was thick and swirling, twisting itself around every thought; it made him feel sluggish. Since when had it been tiring to just open and close his eyes? He knew he was slowing down in some areas but he’d been fairly certain blinking hadn’t been one of them. Maybe he needed to invest in some new glasses?

Dimly he heard someone shouting, it might have even been his name. He couldn’t really tell. It sounded as if it was coming down a long tunnel, echoing eerily off some damp, brick walls before finally reaching his ears completely distorted.

Why was someone shouting at him anyway? What could be so important?

A dark shape flitted across his vision; blurred as it was he caught sight of a familiar glint as it passed. He’d know that anywhere. A gun.

With that realisation it was as though someone had just pressed the play button on a remote after briefly pausing the world. Everything came roaring back into focus: his vision, his hearing, his body, his pain.

A scream was ripped from his throat as he crashed to the floor in a heap, the hard, cold stone causing pain to ricochet through his very bones. White hot agony was exploding in his side, nausea was welling up in his stomach and everything around him seemed to be going haywire. He squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of sights and sounds, hissing in breath after breath as his lungs burned in his chest.

He’d been shot. Someone had bloody well shot him! If he’d thought being stabbed by some creepy Jack the Ripper fanboy had been painful, this right here went and took the bloody biscuit. Without any thought his hands flew to his side, pressing down hard and he felt something warm and wet flow over his fingers – he didn’t need to look to know it was blood.

But why had someone –

_Buchan._

Ray’s eyes flew open, wide and panicked as he tried to force himself upright. The guy had been aiming for _Buchan_.

Expletives dropped from his lips as the pain intensified with each movement, his vision swam before him as he worked desperately to heft himself onto an elbow at least to try and find their consultant. He might not like the man but that didn’t mean he wanted him shot as well.

“For goodness sake stop moving!” Relief flooded through him as Buchan appeared next to him, his hands flapping around all over the place before he placed them on Ray’s shoulders and tried to push him back to the ground. “Just lie down. There we go, nice and easy.”

Ray went with him, gritting his teeth as fresh waves of pain rolled over him. Above him he could hear muttering, high-pitched bloody muttering as Buchan was no doubt starting to panic. As the back of his head touched the ground again he closed his eyes – the adrenaline that had rushed through him just seconds before had gone, leaving behind a bone-aching weariness he hadn’t felt...well, not since the last time he’d lost this much blood.

Suddenly he felt clammy, shaking hands prizing his own away from his side. He opened his mouth to protest but then he felt something else being shoved against the wound, hard. White hot pain whizzed through his nerves again at the sensation; he may well have screamed but he couldn’t be sure.

“Why – I don’t – why would you do that? You shouldn’t have done that. It was silly! Stupid! Idiotic! Honestly, w-what am I going to tell Joe? He’s going to be furious! You could have – you should have…this whole situation is – why did you _do it_?!”

Christ, the man was annoying enough when Ray _wasn’t_ laid on the floor bleeding out of probably a through and through, but right now he was quickly becoming insufferable.

“Don’t ask me.” He muttered back, his teeth scraping against one another as he fought back more exclamations of pain. His memory was coming back in fits and spurts now – he could remember entering the warehouse, Buchan getting all excited about some book or something he could use for their latest case, and then there’d been this noise. It had been nothing more than a footstep, just a little scrape of shoe against stone but it had caused Ray to turn. They’d been confronted by a man, presumably their culprit, with a gun wavering in the air in front of him.

It hadn’t taken long to figure out that it was Buchan he was after, the way his eyes lit up with deranged delight at the sight of him. The arm holding the gun had still wobbled but it had eventually come to rest more firmly pointing at the consultant. Ray hadn’t really thought about it when he’d seen the man’s finger tighten on the trigger, he’d just acted on instinct. He’d yelled out a warning, before he reached out, pushing Buchan to the side as hard as he could and he’d basically taken his place.

He really was turning into a sap if he’d gone and taken a bullet for Buchan.

“I had no idea – I didn’t realise – if I’d known he was going – oh goodness the blood – Sergeant Miles? _Ray_ , please don’t fall asleep!” Buchan’s voice ticked up a pitch or two at the end, causing Ray’s brow to furrow in displeasure. Could he never stay quiet?

“’S’alright, ‘M’awake.” Since when had he started to slur like that? It was getting quite difficult to get his tongue around words now.

“Good! Good! That’s good. Just make sure you stay that way! I don’t – Joe will be – what do I do?!” Ray tried to roll his eyes at the inane chatter coming from the other man, but God even that hurt!

“Ambulance?” He muttered during a dip in Buchan’s yammering.

“Oh. _Oh_! Yes, no I rang. They’re coming. So you’ll be perfectly fine. Just…stay awake.” Easier said than done.

Ray’s eyes slipped closed again – it was getting harder to keep his eyelids open. When had Buchan been able to phone an ambulance? He sure as heck hadn’t noticed anything, but then again the world around him seemed to keep on fading in and out at such a rate that it was entirely likely he’d missed a large chunk of time already.

He felt a light tap on his cheek and above him he heard more stammering, more pleas to stay awake. He heard something more about Joe, about how sorry he was this happened, about how he didn’t want him to die.

“Right little ray of sunshine, you are.” He forced the words out; they seemed to take a lot more effort than normal to leave him. He had to suck in a deep breath when he’d finished, which only served to make the pain in his side double. He groaned, his hand scrabbling weakly to the wound.

Was this really how he was going to die? Lying practically in Buchan’s arms, bleeding out in the middle of some grotty warehouse? He could certainly think of better ways to go. The main one was next to Judy, in his sleep and many, many, many years from now.

God, what about the kids?! Panic flared through him at that thought but it was blunted, dulled by the pain. They were so young…he’d miss so much of their lives. They’d barely remember him when they grew up, he’d be the ghost of a memory in the back of their minds. And Judy.

At her name some of his panic subsided. She’d look after them. She’d know what to do. She was the strongest woman he’d ever met. The _best_ woman he’d ever met, come to that. She’d grieve, of course she would, but she’d get them through it. She’d remind them of him, she’d show them pictures, videos, tell them stories. She’d be there at their weddings for both of them. She’d talk to him at night, tell him everything that had happened. Maybe, if there was such a thing as heaven, he’d be able to hear her.

What about Joe, though? At his DI’s name he felt a pang in his chest that had nothing to do with the bullet wound. He’d tried so hard to look out for the younger man since they’d become friends; it hadn’t been intentional really, his natural paternal instincts had sort of kicked in after the first time he’d seen the kicked puppy look on Chandler’s face. Not to mention his DI had saved his life the last time he’d been bleeding out somewhere – that tended to solidify a relationship.

Now, however, there was no Joe to save him and there’d be no Ray to save Joe. Who’d remind the bloody man to eat something? Or to use his rubber band? Or to talk him down from a panic attack? Buchan sure as hell wouldn’t and nor would the rest of the team – they were too aware of the hierarchy that lay between them. They’d try their best, of course they would, they were a damn fine set of coppers but it wouldn’t be the same.

Ray’s breath hitched in his chest. Above him Buchan was fidgeting and babbling, trying to get him to respond but his mind was whirring too fast to process anything other than his own thoughts. He didn’t want to give up like this, not when people…well, not when Joe still needed him, but with every thump of his heart he knew there wasn’t much he could do.

Why hadn’t he discussed this with Judy? Why hadn’t he prepared for this possibility? If he’d spoken with her, maybe convinced her that should the worst happen to him she could keep on checking on Joe just to make sure he was okay, he’d feel calmer. Then again, his wife knew him better than anyone, she could practically read his mind by this point…she’d know. She’d found it rather sweet how their friendship had developed, no matter how many times Ray had huffed and puffed at her about it.

Judy would make sure Joe was okay.

His grip on consciousness was failing, he could feel it loosening even as he lay there, forcing in breath after breath. There was a chill to the air now, seeping into his skin and into his very bones. He wanted to shiver but he didn’t even have the energy for that anymore. The plus side was the pain was lessening in his side, ebbing away to be replaced by…nothing.

This was it. This was really it.

As he finally gave in to the beckoning darkness the last word to leave his lips, in a whisper was his wife’s name. Somewhere above him Buchan began to shout, to shake him but none of it mattered. He slipped into the welcoming arms of death.

\----

The first thing he heard was an obnoxious rhythmic beeping to his side. The first thing he felt were crisp sheets tucked around his body, then he became aware of something sticking into the crook of his arm and then, finally, to a hand in his. That was odd. If this was heaven it wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting. It smelt far too much like antiseptic.

It took him a few more minutes before he could muster up the strength to open his eyes, but eventually he forced them open and started to take in his surroundings. White walls. White sheets. An IV next to him and…yeah, _great_ , a catheter inserted somewhere he really wished it wasn’t. He grimaced at the feeling – this definitely wasn’t heaven. It could be hell, but he figured there’d probably be more pitchforks around the place.

Suddenly he felt the fingers wrapped around his hand squeeze it gently, demanding his attention subtly. He rolled his head on the pillow and felt his heart skip a beat.

Judy.

She looked shattered; her skin was pale, there were bags under her eyes and worry lines creasing her forehead but there she was. He released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding as he squeezed her fingers back. Relief washed through him at the knowledge that he was _alive._

“Hi you.” She whispered, reaching her free hand up to brush gently at his cheek. He leant into the touch, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before he forced them open again, drinking the sight of her in.

“Hi.” He replied quietly, a tired smile crossing his lips.

“You had us worried for a moment there.” Her voice was calm but he’d known her long enough to detect the tremor there. It was the same one that he’d heard when he’d woken up here last time.

“Sorry, love.” He murmured, squeezing her fingers again in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. It earned him a smile, so at least that was something.

“You will be,” She teased, “At this rate I’m going to have to send you off wrapped in bubble wrap. Or tie you to the bed when there’s a dangerous case on.”

“Promises, promises.” He smirked, but she only shook her head in amusement briefly before she glanced over towards the door. He followed her gaze and thought he caught a shadow disappear behind the window.

“I’m going to grab a coffee, love,” She stroked his cheek with her thumb tenderly before she withdrew, “I think someone else wants to see you.” She added with a nod towards the door when he tried to protest. He frowned at her in confusion but she simply kissed his forehead, stood and made her way to the door. She pulled it open and smiled.

“In you go, Joe.” Realisation hit Ray hard and he could only blink stupidly as his DI practically crept into the room. He looked awkward, like he wasn’t sure if he should actually be here but…well, there he was.

“Hi.” Ray offered, raising the hand without the IV to give him a small wave. Even in his exhausted state he could tell that Joe didn’t exactly look his best. His suit was creased, his top button undone and his hair was sticking up at the back. There were dark bags beneath his eyes as well and Ray could already spot the tell-tale red marks around one wrist – he’d been snapping that band a lot.

“You’re awake.” The relief in his friend’s voice was enough to almost break his heart.

“You’re not a detective for nothing.” He replied with a small smile, trying to bring some semblance of their normal banter into the room, but it seemed to fall flat.

“They said you could –“ Ray shook his head quickly, he could probably guess what doctors and nurses had been saying to everyone since he’d been brought in. He could still remember the chill that had spread through his bones, the intense weariness that had seeped into him, the darkness that had wanted to claim him.

He knew he’d nearly died. Again.

“You know me, guv, never listened to doctors.” He forced another smile on his face, trying to catch Joe’s eyes as his DI remained hovering by the doorway.

“I thought –“ Ray silenced him again, he could well imagine what had been going through the poor man’s head for…however long he’d been in here. They’d been through this before anyway, and he could remember how hard Joe had taken it then.

“I’m fine, Joe. Tough as old boots, me. You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me.” Finally that elicited some sort of smile from his DI. He gestured towards the seat Judy had just vacated and was relieved when Joe moved towards it. Ray watched him remove his jacket, place it neatly across the back of the chair and then settle in the seat.

“Good.” Was the whispered reply as he brushed out the creases in his trousers. At the well known movements Ray felt himself relax slightly, this was more like the Chandler he knew and – well, loved was probably the wrong word, but…well, he couldn’t think of anything more apt.

They stayed in silence for a while and Ray felt tiredness begin to wash over him, he yawned.

“You saved Ed’s life, you know?” Joe’s voice forced him to turn his head towards him, his eyelids still feeling heavy. “He’s calling you a hero.” The words were laced with amusement and Ray couldn’t help but groan.

“Oh bloody hell, they’re never going to let me live that down.” It’d be all over the station now. People would think he actually liked Buchan. Oh Christ.

“Mhm, could be the start of a beautiful friendship, don’t you think?” Ray shot him a glare, but there was no real weight to it. Instead he drifted back off to sleep, lulled by Joe’s soft laughter next to him.


End file.
